See You, Tomorrow
by LeafyDream
Summary: A week before she meets Joker, Dr. Quinzel is interviewed by a reporter. She discusses her beliefs with an interested Mr. Kent and finds a friend and ally in him. This moment creates an untold story as Superman fights for Harley and illuminates a path out of the darkness Joker has buried her in. This is the story of the Clown Princess of Crime and her Man of Tomorrow.
1. I Believe in Healing

**"I Believe in Healing."**

Gotham was nothing like the shining, gleaming city of Metropolis. There was no clearer indication of this than Arkham Asylum. The mental institutes and rehabilitation clinics of Metropolis were built to help the lost find their way again. They were monuments of the unity between human beings, built to represent one person holding their hand out to the other. Arkham Asylum was a cesspool, a place where the lost plummeted deeper and deeper down the abyss until all they couldn't see the light anymore.

The night sky hung over the complex as the cold, winter wind blew against the stone walls. The howl of the breeze echoed through the empty hallways as the front doors were opened and closed. A single man walked through the lobby, followed and watched by the staff. He wasn't used to their presence, and they were unused to his. They watched him with glares and hushed whispers, some wondering why he was here, others mocking why he was here.

The staff seemed disbelieving of their own mission. The idea of healing any of the criminals and psychopaths who enter these doors was a pipe dream, more fictitious than the monster bat that prowled the city streets.

That was why the man was here. He wanted to prove them wrong.

He was led through granite walls and over tiled floor, sometimes glancing at the trembling and bellowing figures behind locked doors. Some screamed out for help, others mocked the idea of help, and some just sat there, watching this new, foreign germ crawl along their floor. The man tried not to think about what some of them were thinking as he walked, holding his briefcase with both hands.

The doors were pushed open by a guard and the man stepped into the office with a nod of thanks. The guard just rolled his eyes. The man entered the room and found the person he was looking for. A woman sat on her chair, glancing at the notes scattered on the desk, her back facing him. Her blonde locks were wrapped into a bun, and he could see the distinct frame of black, thick-rimmed glasses resting on her ear. He saw her white coat stretch down her back, acting as a thin cushion on the seat.

"Doctor Quinzel?"

The woman stopped and turned her seat, spinning it around to face the man. Her cyan eyes met his grey pupils as her ebony-painted lips opened to show the slightest bit of surprise. "You're early, Mister Kent."

"Sorry. I have this awful habit of running late back in Metropolis and the last thing I wanted was to start the same record here," Mr. Kent apologized. "I did bring a gift, though. A bit of Metropolis hospitality for her sister city. I offered some to the guards and other doctors, but..."

"I doubt anyone here is very welcoming of gifts," the blonde doctor muttered. She watched as Mr. Kent placed his briefcase onto her bookshelf. He flicked open the locks, before pulling the leather case open. He reached inside and pulled out a small, white paper bag, the opening folded up to keep the contents from spilling out. He handed the bag to her with a kind expression on his face.

"I brought cookies from Metropolis. There's this amazing bakery downtown that always makes the sweetest cookies."

"Cookies." Doctor Quinzel blinked for a moment, fixing her glasses as she tried decipher the word. 'You brought cookies. For an interview?"

"Like I said, they're just a bit of Metropolis hospitality. Besides, you were nice enough to let me come here and interview, I thought it was only fair I offered something in return."

"You write a good passage about me in the Daily Planet, Mr. Kent. That is what you are supposed to be offering in return," the woman sighed. "I've never been to Metropolis. Is everyone as odd as you?"

"I suppose they are, yes. I always thought everyone in the city was just nice," he joked, a small smile on his face. The woman seemed to at least appreciate his humor as her frown turned more neutral. "Here, have some." He approached her seated body and held out the white bag, offering it with the same simple smile. The young doctor glanced at the bag, before taking it with a hesitant hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Kent..."

"My pleasure. So, are you ready to start the interview?" he asked, walking back to his briefcase. He saw her nod his head out of the corner of his eye, before he pulled out a notepad and a pen, before glancing around. He saw a chair pushed into a corner and motioned to it. "May I?"

"Oh. Of course," she nodded her head. He rolled the chair towards her, before sitting down across from the young, sunlight-haired doctor.

"Feel free to have some as we talk. I probably should have waited, but they're best when fresh."

"Fresh? It takes at least two hours to get from Metropolis to Gotham." The doctor rose her brow again as the reporter's eyes blinked at her.

"Oh, well, I mean, fresh is a relative term..."

"Hm. You're not like most reporters I know, Mr. Kent," commented the woman.

"You can just call me Clark. Truth be told, this is actually the first interview I've ever done by myself. I'm actually still new at the Daily Planet."

"Ah. I see. Looking for your first big break?"

"Looking for a story I believe in," he corrected. "I read what you said about your work. I could see it really came from the heart, and I respect that. So I want to help you," he explained. "Besides, I believe in second chances and rehabilitation, just like you."

"Wish my colleagues shared your optimism," she replied, a long, heavy sigh following her words. "All the same, I appreciate the thought." She reached into the bag and pulled a single, large chocolate chip cookie. She bit into it, tearing a chunk of the sweet, crisp treat off. She bit into it as the crumbs tickled her tongue like little firecrackers. "Huh. This is really good," she mumbled, only for her eyes to widen. "Sorry." She swallowed the snack and wiped her mouth. "Please don't mention that I talk with my mouth full in your article."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "Don't worry, Dr. Quinnzel. I'm on your side here. No one will know, or care about your poor manners once you succeeded." The smile on his face revealed he was merely teasing her, and she actually appreciated the act. The mood relaxed, if only a little, and the doctor felt just a bit more comfortable for her interview.

"I wish I had your confidence," she chuckled, a tone of bitterness hidden by her laugh.

"Do you not feel confident?"

"Don't misunderstand me, I believe in healing, and I am confident enough in my abilities, it's just that I've never worked with a patient of this... caliber? No, that's not the right word," she sighed.

"Notoriety?" he suggested.

"Is notoriety a better word for it?"

"I'll write it down, and we can decide on it later, maybe?" he suggested, jotting something down on his notepad.

"This interview isn't very authentic, is it?" commented the doctor, a small smirk on her face.

"A sad fact I've learned since acquiring my position at the Daily Planet, but I try to work with it as best I can," he admitted. "The world is hardly as clean as we'd like to think."

"Don't I know it," Dr. Quinzel muttered. "But that's why I'm here. Instead of making more of a mess, like some caped psychopath I could name, I want to actually try to stop the problem from the source. Instead of cleaning the spill on the floor, I want to find the child and ask him why he spilled it in the first place. I want to give the child a chance to heal and learn, and I want to figure out why they do what they do. I'll help them, instead of leaving them in a body cast for six months."

"Low opinion on Gotham's Caped Crusader?"Clark inquired, quietly writing down her words onto his notepad.

"I'm not typically a fan of thugs," she replied. Her azure eyes sharpened and her ebony lips fell into a scowl. "I didn't become a doctor to let the mentally ill be beaten and terrified. Society wouldn't applaud a man who abused the physically disabled, I won't applaud one who does the same to the mentally disabled."

"A lot of people would say that violence was the only way to stop these people from hurting innocent lives, Doctor."

She would have almost felt annoyed with the argument, but she could hear the gentleness in the reporter's voice. _He certainly has a kind of charisma to him,_ she thought. This reporter, strange as he was, had a kindness to him that the tabloids Gotham was infested with sorely lacked. Instead of being attacked and her intellect questioned, he seemed more genuinely curious of her own thoughts and opinion. She appreciated the way he spoke, even if he was faking it for the interview.

"Maybe, but maybe they're violent because of the response they've been given? The cycle of vengeance perpetuates itself. A sick man who is stopped with violence will think violence is the only answer, especially if he sees people applaud the man who stopped him. So he doesn't listen to his doctors and he escapes and goes about the whole thing all over again, using more and more violent means to get what he wants."

"You sound passionate about the topic."

"Rehabilitation isn't a joke, contrary to what my co-workers think," she declared, glancing over Clark's shoulder to the door behind him. "Most of them have given up on helping the people here."

"But you haven't?"

"I'm nothing special," she replied, shrugging lazily as her gaze returned to the reporter. She stared into his gray eyes, only for her gaze to drift slightly. "Just someone trying to do her job."

"And you think you can help him?" It was a loaded question, and his steely eyes watched her ponder it. Her fingers crushed and caressed the bag on her lap as she quietly thought to herself.

"Have you ever met the man?"

"I have a friend in Gotham who has told me stories about him, but no, I've never personally met him."

"The first time I saw him, he was in a body cast, but laughing like he had heard a good joke. Everytime he laughed, he'd cough and nearly kill himself. Everyone thinks he's crazy, and maybe he is, but... There's no way he chose this life." Her eyes lifted up and her azure orbs met his grey eyes as she spoke with a slow, deliberate pace. "Something horrible happened to this man. Something awful, that damaged him for the rest of his life. If something terrible could bring a man to this... Then something good might help him come back from it."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. I truly do." But her voice was so small, almost like a whisper, almost as if a weight on her shoulders threatened to crush the hope she held.

"And that's why you want to help this man?"

"It's a factor," she replied. "The fame and awards aren't a detraction at the very least," she added, a wryly smile meeting his eyes . "May I ask you something, Mr. Kent?"

"Like I said, you can call me Clark, doctor," he gently reminded. He nodded his head, a kind expression on his face. "And of course."

"Why are you really here? It can't be as simple as you 'believing in me.' Spill it. Are you going to keep this story on the backburner until it all goes wrong and you can use it to show I was always a failure? Or are you simply here to prove how crazy I am already?" she wondered, her eyes sharpening into an icy glare. Despite the harsh stare, her anger seemed to wash past him like a river against a stone. He didn't frown, nor did he scowl, he just smiled.

"You've been in Gotham too long, Dr. Quinzel, or maybe you just need a fresh perspective. I really didn't come here with some ulterior motive. I read about your work, found myself interested, and came to interview you, and while I may have heard stories of this man, I share your hope that he can be helped. I like to think we all can be," he explained.

"Heh. Forget reporters, you're not like most men I've met."

"Heh. Well, my ma always told me I was one of a kind," he chuckled. He paused, pondering his own question. She saw the hesitation in his eyes as he fixed his glasses, averting his gaze. For a moment, his grey eyes seemed almost cerulean in the yellowish light. "But I suppose I do have a slight ulterior motive." He saw the way her shoulders fell, but he was quick to explain. "Do you remember the 'Conduit Incident' in Metropolis a month ago?"

Dr. Quinzel searched through her memories, quietly recalling the event. "Yeah. Some supervillain with energy powers nearly blows up the city, gets stopped by Superman, and he ends up killing himself or something?"

"He died in Superman's arms, angry and alone. After he passed on, every paper, even the Daily Planet, smeared his name through the mud. They called him a psychopath, a monster, a degenerate... Not a single person mentioned his father." She saw the slightest tremble in Clark's hand, his pen quivering as he glared into the tiled floor through his glasses. "His father beat him and smacked him and neglected him. I'm not saying the abuse made him who he was, I'm not saying he wasn't responsible of his actions, but if someone had found him, curled up in a corner, crying as he nursed his bruised face... Who knows what would have happened...?"

She didn't say anything for what felt like a long, eternal moment. She didn't know what she could say. Social interaction and friendly comforting was never something she knew how to do with 'regular' people. She studied how to help the ill and abused for years, forgoing simple social interaction in exchange. Finally, she found her voice, low and almost hushed. "You knew him, didn't you?"

Clark nodded his head, sighing as his head gently bobbed up and down. "He was my friend, back when we were kids. I knew his father was hard on him, but I never thought... When I found out, it was too late to do anything.."

"I'm sorry for your loss..."

"Thank you," he replied. There wasn't anything he said after that, as Quinzel saw the memories play through his dull, grey eyes. It was said that eyes were windows to the soul, and while she never believed that new age garbage, she could at least see the regret in his.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to open old wounds."

"You don't need to apologize, you didn't do anything," he replied. He shook himself a bit, rolling his shoulders as he buried his regrets within himself.

She said nothing as his smile returned to his lips. She didn't say anything, even as she saw how the smile seemed to have changed. Fake wasn't the right word for it. He was smiling. He was also just using it to hide his true feelings.

"I know that sometimes the people we call villains need help. They need to know someone cares." Harleen smiled at the reporter, her black lips gleaming along with her smile as he looked up at her.

"I'm glad to see there's someone out there rooting for me."

"More than just me, I assure you, doctor."

He returned the smile as she relaxed in her seat. "You can call me Harleen, if you want. When it's just you and me, I mean."

"Alright then, Harleen. Now then, next question..."

* * *

She gazed at the paper with a smile on her face, tongue stuck out as she quietly concentrated on the act. With slow, steady cuts, she freed the article from the newspaper. Once again, for the fifth time that night, she read the title aloud.

"Esteemed Doctor Fights for Second Chances in Gotham City." _Esteemed!_ she repeated to herself. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a passionate and caring doctor at Gotham City's Arkham Asylum believes that the city isn't lost. She believes that a second chance is waiting just around the corner, and after meeting her, I believe the same. The good doctor is working nearly on her own, fighting for the rights of the mentally troubled and lost in a city that has forgotten them."

She held the parchment with one hand, almost as if it was sacred, taking care not to bend the thin material. She opened her scrapbook with her other hand, grinning as she came to a blank page. She placed the article down, laying on its front, and began to carefully wipe a glue stick against each of the four corners. Then she lifted it back up and placed it down on the top of the blank page, gently pressing it down so no bubbles of air or folds stuck out.

"First of many," she whispered to herself. "First of many, Har! People are going to know your name, and you are going down in the history books!" Her untouched lips formed a beaming grin as she stroked the grey paper. "Thanks, Clark..."

Her phone beeped and she glanced at it. Her alarm reminded her she needed to head off to work. She couldn't be late. She had her first appointment with her patient in less than an hour. With her spirit high and her smile wide, she grabbed her keys and ran towards her door. Today was the start of her new life...

 **END**

Not sure how soon I'll update this, but this is a story I've been wanting to write for a long time. Harley Quinn X Superman is probably my number one crack ship. I love them together, so... yeah. I hope you enjoyed this story. If so, leave a review! If I know people like this story, I'll probably update sooner! Hopefully you enjoyed the first chapter of this little romance story.


	2. You Can't Help Her

**"You Can't Help Her."**

Superman had never been very fond of Gotham. He didn't fear the place, nor would his hesitation ever stop him in guarding the innocents that lived within the city, but the entire city was just so... sad. There were so many people here facing their darkest hour day by day. There was so much horror in the average child's gaze, so many hearts beating in dread, and minds wondering if they'd live to see tomorrow.

Each time he came to Gotham City, his respect for Bruce grew more and more. Not just respect for the Caped Crusader, but all of the honest men and women that lived in Gotham. The cops and good samaritans that all struggled to make this city a little brighter ans safer than it was yesterday... Gotham City was a terrifying place, and in its' darkest moments, it made the young Kryptonian worry for humanity's future; but there was light. There was love in the snow-covered city, even as the cold, uncaring wind tried to blow it all away, there was good out there.

"Superman." The young man turned his head to look at his friend and partner, the infamous Batman. "Focus. I didn't ask you here for sight seeing."

"Just admiring the city," he replied.

"Is that supposed to be sarcasm?" Superman just smiled at his friend as the Dark Knight Detective scanned the area with his binoculars. "There." He didn't say anything else, only pointing to a car below them. In the same amount of time, Superman saw the car and scanned it with his X-ray vision.

"That's Bruno's car, alright. So Joker really is working with Intergang." The distinct sound of Batman's grapple gun told him that this conversation was going to be on the move. He flew after his friend, doing his best to remain out of sight as Batman swung and leaped from rooftop to rooftop.

"The local gangs have been getting higher-grade tech. Intergang must be the source."

"The crooks here must really want to kill you..." Superman could hear the slight stumble his friend experienced when he hit the hard surface of another rooftop. He could hear the strain in his bones and muscles as he struggled to stay ahead of the brightly-colored hero. "You know, if you ever need help-"

"I can handle it. Some punk with a laser pistol goes down as easily as a punk with a 9mm."

"I know, and I know you can handle it, I only meant that crooks from Metropolis don't need to be in Gotham for you to ask me for help. I-"

"I know. Keep up." Superman fought back a sigh as Batman began to run faster, pushing himself further ahead to outpace his alien counterpart. The Man of Steel just kept a measured distance between the two, letting the topic drop for now. When the armor-clad knight finally stopped, Superman landed beside him, the two standing over the edge of a building, overlooking another complex below them. "Bruno's car is parked out there."

"Building's lined with lead. I can't see through it, but I'm hearing over two dozen heartbeats. A lot of guys in-" Superman hesitated as his nose picked up a familiar aroma. It smelled like strawberries, mixed with watermelon and the slight musk of sweat. It was certainly clouded in the fog of smells that polluted the small building, but once he caught a whiff of it he combed through the area with his senses to find the source.

The hot, burning odor of freshly fired guns, the heavy, overpriced stench of Bruno's cologne, the fowl, the almost burning reek of recently spilled blood, even the sterile, almost acidic smell of chemicals reeking from the building couldn't hide the smell. There was a miasma of scents around the abandoned building They say smell was the sense most closely tied to memory. It felt true for Clark at that moment as he caught her aroma.

"This will be the first time seeing her since the interview, won't it?" The gravelly, low voice of his best friend broke Superman from his thoughts. He glanced towards the detective, a gleam of surprise in his eyes. "I know what you're thinking, but she's too far gone. Better people than either of us have tried and failed to help her."

"That doesn't mean we should give up..."

"She helped gun down her own co-workers the night Joker escaped Arkham. Good people. Innocent people. Since then, she's been trying to impress him by leaving body after body. She nearly killed the Commissioner barely a week ago. I'm sorry, but she is gone." His voice was firm, unyielding, with only the smallest hint of sympathy.

Superman didn't reply. He just closed his eyes for a moment as he allowed his senses to scan the area again. "I hear two heartbeats. Not human. They smell like blood... Gnawing on bones."

"Joker's hyenas."

"I hear their weapons charging. They're expecting us."

"Then let's not keep them waiting. I'll go high, you go low," commanded the Dark Knight. Superman just nodded his head as Batman shot his grapple hook onto the roof of a nearby building and swung himself forward.

* * *

"What the hell is happening?!" Superman could hear Bruno's angry ranting through the walls of the warehouse as he pushed through the armored soldiers, knocking them aside with relative ease. "Those new suits are supposed to make you idiots equal to that freak! Kick his ass already!"

Superman fought back the small urge to smile as he pushed through the swarm of exosuitted gangsters and thugs. The metal suits made them stronger and faster, and they were armed with some powerful artillery, there was no doubt there. They would have slaughtered the good men and women of the Gotham Police Department. Thankfully Intergang would never get a chance to use any of these weapons against them.

"Surrender, gentlemen, and I promise this will be over quickly and painlessly," warned the Man of the Steel as the last of the gangsters in this room glared at him.

"Go to hell, Boy Scout!" one declared, lifting his arm. Superman could hear the distinct hum as it charged up, the scarlet glow it gave as the barrel of the gun on his arm turned hot with energy. It was going to fire in the next few nanoseconds, but he moved faster than it. His hand fell upon the barrel of the gun, and he examined the design of the weapon. This was the first time he got a close up examination of the weapon and he planned on using his time wisely.

The previous wielders of the suits were simply knocked out, their suits dented and broken. This time Superman examined the suit with curious eyes. He was no Dark Knight Detective, but he could still recognize the technology. Apokolips weaponry, advanced, even godlike if one didn't understand it, but it was still technology. He followed the lines and cables that connected the arm to the small battery pack on his back. The battery seemed to be powering the entire suit, and his X-ray vision showed no auxiliary power source.

 _Figures Darkseid would give Intergang the less advanced tech._ Without another word, Superman ripped the battery from the man's back, using his heat vision to quickly sever all the cables and wires that connected it to the suit. He relaxed his reflexes to a more human level as the thug fell to the ground, the armor now weighing him down as all of its' systems shut down.

"W-what the hell happened?!"

"I doubt you'll be able to get out of the suits by yourselves. You'll just have to wait here while Batman and I finish with your boss. Don't worry, I'll help you get out and hand you over to Gotham PD myself," chuckled Superman. The hero flew off, out the open doorway and through room after room, scanning the floor for anymore of Intergang or Joker's crews. He pressed a finger to his ear, activating his communicator."Batman, how are things on your end?"

"I'm after Joker and Mannheim. They're trying to escape out of the second story."

"Do you need help?"

"No, I-"

"What the hell are you doin' you freakin' psycho?!" Superman could hear the angry, guttural roar of Bruno 'Ugly' Mannheim on the second story. He was about to burst through the ceiling to reach him, only for a sound that caused even the Man of Steel to shiver echoed through his ears.

Laughter. A wild, almost hyena-like cackle that echoed throughout the warehouse.

"You backstabbing, pale-faced motherf-" He could hear the high-pitched hiss of a machine charging up.

"Puddin'?" His eyes widened at the sound of her voice. She sounded so scared. Terrified. Betrayed...

Her voice was drowned out by the hiss of the machine until he could barely hear her racing heartbeat. The sound was only getting louder as the very earth began to quake, and a portion of the ceiling fell from above. Superman dodged the fallen debris with ease, but he could feel the entire building shaking from the growing sound. He ground his teeth, suppressing the painful ringing in his ears as he tried to speak.

"Batman! I'm coming up! What's going on!?" Superman could barely hear the sound of the stone shattering against his body. The scream of the machine seemed to pollute the entire area, leaving him unable to hear anything beyond the faint heartbeats of his friend and their enemies.

"Joker activated a bomb. A sonic one I'm guessing considering your screaming. It's causing an earthquake. Can you take care of it while I pursue Bruno and Joker?"

"I can! Go! Just be careful!"

"Noted."

 _Okay, first thing's first, I have to take care of that bomb,_ he growled. The sound was deafening at this point as Joker, Bruno, and Batman's heartbeats faded away. He could only hear the faint heartbeats of the abandoned henchmen and minions the two crime lords' left behind, including hers. _Focus, Clark._ He shot off like a blue bullet through the wall, heading towards the source of the agonizing sound.

He shattered through solid stone as he saw the device, a black orb with glowing, crimson symbols decorating its' metal shell. It was floating in the air, slowly spinning. At this range, it was enough to cause the Man of Steel blistering pain. He felt the screech tear at his ear drums, drowning his mind in a metallic, distorted scream. He could even feel the sonic waves slamming against his skin, bathing his body in the noise.

It was almost enough to make him hesitate.

He flew towards the orb and placed his hands on it to crush it, only to recoil at the searing metal. It was burning hot, and only growing hotter, no doubt a defense mechanism built by the twisted minds of Apokolips. He shot back and frowned at the alien science at work. It was growing hotter, like it was charging up for something. _The sonic blast causes an earthquake, then the bomb builds up and explodes, wiping out the area..._ He shook off his disgust and flew forward again, grabbing onto the device.

The orb seared even his supposedly-invulnerable flesh, but he was not deterred. He dug his fingers into the metal shell and pulled, tearing it open. Within he found wires and circuits, like any bomb found on Earth. He wasn't an expert on the matter, but his vision examined the innards of the device and his heat vision cut the wires that seemed to be charging it. The bomb's screech vanished and it slowly began to lose all the built up energy it contained. Still, he encased it in ice just to be safe.

"Phew," he sighed, wiping a layer sweat from his brow. His ears were still ringing as he took a moment to relax.

"-stupid, ugly, butt-licking, sole-kissing, animal-hating punce!"

'Huh?"

Superman turned his head and he couldn't hide the surprise that shined through his eyes. He had been so distracted by that sonic device, he hadn't even realized how close her heartbeat had been. She laid on the ground, glaring at him with such rage and fury that he almost couldn't see the doctor he had come to respect in the woman. The clothes only made it more impossible to see her.

Harleen Quinzel, from when Clark Kent had met her, wore a practical, modest outfit that would have befit any doctor. The woman in front of him was more akin to a woman at a rock and roll concert, or as part of some kind of motorcycle gang. She wore leathers pants that clung to the shapely length of her legs, divided into two different colors, black and red, that were on opposite sides on each leg. The leather bustier that clung to her skin was of similar color, being painted crimson with three black diamonds over her left breast. She wore little else beside her leather shoes, and he quickly caught his eyes to keep himself from staring at her exposed cleavage.

Her platinum blonde hair was unruly, barely managed into two pigtails. The tips of her hair were dyed to match her clothing, one side black, the other a scarlet red. Mascara seemed to outline her eyes, making the azure gems pop. Finally a layer of white paint seemed haphazardly layered onto her face, with blush added to give her an almost porcelain doll appearance.

"H-Harley?"

"-braindead, slug-stepping, poop-eating, hairy, ugly, dorky, dressed-like-a-homo-"

He tuned her out, focusing more on what she was holding onto. Her body was laid out on the ground, arms wrapped around two furry animals. A pair of hyenas, the ones Batman must have mentioned, but neither looked like ferocious animals. Instead, both appeared sickly and hurt. They let out whimpering, sickly laughs that seemed more like cries for help than anything else.

"-moronic, fat, baby-kicking-"

"What happened to them?" His voice silenced her seemingly unending torrent of insults. His X-ray vision picked apart the two animals' bodies and he detected severe bleeding from their ears.

"That bomb Bat-dork turned on! It nearly killed my babies! What kinda animal-hating sicko could hurt my widdle babies?!" she screamed, glaring at him, before embracing both of the animals. "Shh... It's okay, mama's here!" The two creature barely seemed to register her, letting out tiny whimpering wails as they trembled.

Superman was about to speak, only to turn his head downward. While he was able to stop the bomb from discharging, it seemed that damaged had already been done to the foundation of the warehouse. It was about to come down on their heads; his supersenses already showing him the cracking stone and bending steel. "We need to go."

"Don't touch me! It's your fault my babies are suffering!" she hissed, trying to smack his hand away from her. He moved his hand out of the way, knowing she'd probably break her fingers if she tried hitting him. "You wanna help me? Save my babies first!"

Superman let out a sigh, before glancing downward again. The ground was breaking. This warehouse was crumbling. He had to make his move and he did so, grabbing the two hyenas and plucking them from Harley's embrace. He was gone in a blur, flying out of the warehouse and dropping the two beasts onto the sidewalk outside. Then he returned to the inside of the complex and picked up the various henchmen and goons he and Batman dealt with.

The roof was caving in. Better hurry.

Once all the thugs were accounted for, he flew in to save Harley who was just starting to realize what was happening around her. Her body was almost statue-like as she lifted her head up to gape at the falling rooftop. He flew to her side, being careful not to create a sonic boom on accident. While his body was moving fast, his senses and mind moved faster, examining the inside of the warehouse with near-perfect precision as he shot out of the entrance like a blue blur. He had to move a slight detour, but he was able to escape before the warehouse was nothing more than a pile of rubble.

"-and I- Huh...?" Harley blinked as she suddenly found herself some place new. Her head suddenly felt dizzy as she groaned, nearly falling as her legs seemed to lose their strength.

"Easy. Just a bit of whiplash. It happens," Superman explained. He used one arm to catch, letting her grip onto it like a railing.

"Ugh... I think I'm gonna hurl," she groaned. She covered her mouth with both of her gloved hands, before glaring at the Man of Steel. "You!" She glared at him like she was born to hate him, but he couldn't even come close to matching the intensity of her glare. "Just you wait, Mistah J is gonna get you and Bat-dork for ruining date night!"

"Date night?" Even her voice was different. The doctor's voice held a subtle, if distinct Brooklyn accent, but Harley's voice was high-pitched, almost like a parody of some old sitcom with a heavy exaggeration of the accent. "You were almost killed by the bomb he set off!"

"He only set it off 'cuza your heterosexual life-pal! Besides, my puddin' knows me. He knows I'd be okay!"

"And what about your pets?" He motioned to the two hyenas, both still whimpering and quivering as if they were expecting another agonizing screech to shoot through them. "They could have suffered permanent damage to their ears from the sonic blast alone, not to mention what the actual explosion could have done! Joker was going to let you die, Harley!"

"E-explosion?" He could see her eyes widen, her throat tighten, he could even hear her heart race just a little faster. "That thing was gonna explode?"

"And it would have taken out the entire warehouse, with you and your pets in it," he explained. She pulled away from his arm and walked on shaky legs to the two hyenas. "Mistah J wouldn't've... He wouldn't've tried to hurt me... I-I'm his gal."

"Harley... Think rationally," he followed behind her, reaching his hand out to her shoulder. He gently felt the soft, smooth skin as he spoke again, "Joker doesn't love you..."

"But... but if he doesn't love me, then... Then I got no one." She sounded like she had lost everything from his words. She cradled herself in her arms as she fought back a sob, her eyes welling with tears as her head fell.

"Harley... You're not alone. Please, let me help you." He moved closer to her side, his hand reaching to her cheek to gently pull her towards him. "Harley, I-"

He was so focused on her, he didn't even think to look at her, to really look at her. Maybe he would have seen it coming. Maybe he could have avoided it all together. A simple glance with his x-ray vision would have revealed the knife. A simple attempt to hear beyond what he saw could have picked up the scratch it made coming out of the sheath...

But he was so focused on her...

She pulled out the knife from where she had been hiding it and lunged at him. He could feel the steel being thrust against his eyeball, the brief shadow it cast over his vision, he felt the way the steel bent and cracked against his eye, even feel how her hand stung from coming to a sudden, unexpected stop...

"Ah! Damn it!" she hissed, nursing her wrist before pulling back her leg. She swung it at him, towards the weak spot of most men, but he sidestepped her.

"You don't want to do that," he warned.

"What? Ya got balls of steel down there, tough guy?" she hissed. She threw a punch at the Man of Steel, which fell into his hand like rock on a pillow.

"I can make it so you won't hurt yourself when you try and hit me, but if you keep it up I'll stop," he warned.

"Well, ain't you a gentlemen!"

His eyes fell upon their hands. She felt so small in his grasp; his fingers wrapped around her wrist so easily. He could feel her heartbeat through her veins, not just hear, he felt the soft, rhythmic beat reverberate through his fingertips. While Harley's face, voice, and clothes were different, he could still feel her heart beat the same it did when he first met her.

It was one of the many blessings his life gave him. Everyone's heart beat a little differently, in ways that most machines couldn't even pick up on. It just... felt different from person to person, but Harley Quinn's heart ticked and beat just like Harleen's did.

He watched her pull away from him as soon as he released her. She marched back to her pets and embraced them as police sirens rang through his ears.

* * *

Superman stood atop the building, watching the officers push Harley into the police van as they separated her from her pets. She kicked and struggled every step of the way as she desperately called out to her pets, who whimpered and fought with the men who had them muzzled and dragged into another van.

"I see you took care of things here with minimal property damage."

He couldn't bring himself to smile at the snide remark, only turning his head to look at the Caped Crusader. "Joker and Mannheim?"

"I was able to catch Mannheim, but Joker escaped."

"Hm." There was a twitch to Superman's fingers as he turned back away. The slight flinch wasn't missed by Batman, who approached him closer from behind.

"You seem distracted."

"It's nothing."

"You always were a terrible liar."

"That's not exactly fair," he chuckled. "You are supposed to be the detective, after all." He couldn't meet his friend's eyes as the two heroes stood side by side. Batman followed Superman's blue eyes to the sight below them, staring at the animal control van that held the two hyenas.

"Clark, don't." It was a hushed whisper, barely anything more than a faint breath, but both knew Superman could hear it clearly. "You can't help her."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't try. Maybe she can be helped."

"People have tried to help her. She nearly killed them for trying."

"She was helped by the people of Arkham Asylum. No offense, but has that placed ever helped anyone? Didn't you help arrest one of their doctors recently? The Strange fellow?" Superman turned his head to look at Batman, his voice clear and his resolve ironclad. "Maybe she needs a bit of Metropolis' hospitality. Help me talk to the Commissioner and whoever else we need to. We can get Harley separated from Joker and this city, and I can help her."

Batman didn't let the slight slip go. His eyes narrowed into a glare as he whispered, "She wanted to help Joker. She was driven to save him, and you can't save people from their own choices, Clark."

Superman couldn't deny the truth to that statement, nor could he deny his best friend's fair argument, and yet... Hope was his family's sigil, and he couldn't just give up without trying. "Maybe you're right, but I can show her that this life isn't the only choice she has." Without another word, Superman flew down from the rooftop. He could feel Batman's glare on his cape as he landed beside the animal control van and gently tapped on the window. "Excuse me, sir?"

"H-holy shit! Superman?!" one man stuttered.

"Huh? What?" The man's partner turned his head to find the famous hero standing outside their car.

"I wanted to ask what you were planning to do with Harley Quinn's hyenas?"

"H-holy shit... S-Superman's talking to us, Mike! S-say something, stupid!"

"Uh... T-they're pretty deaf now, S-Superman, sir. We were gonna take them back to the center to be put down. They're too dangerous to be taken to any zoo, and now that they're almost completely deaf..."

Superman's lips curled into a wryly smile as he scratched the back of his raven-colored hair. "I don't suppose there's a chance I can adopt them, is there? I have a lot of pets back home, and two more wouldn't hurt. Besides, they're no danger to me."

"Y-you want to adopt these things?"

"I would very much like to, yes."

 **END**

Superman has a whole zoo of alien lifeforms and monsters. What are two hyenas to that?

I really wanted to try and portray Superman and the others well, with Superman having a love for Gotham's people, but knowing how dark and twisted the city itself was. He respects Batman and the police officers and the innocents, but he knows that Arkham Asylum isn't exactly a monument to humanity's kindness... I also really enjoyed writing how his powers felt, with all the ways his senses picked up on things. Super fun.

And what's this Harley Quinn being sent off to Metropolis? Will it be enough to help her? Distance from Joker and Gotham might help, but she'll need a little more...

I'm super proud of all the reviews, and very thankful to the kindness of the readers. You guys rock! Thank you so much!


	3. I'm Reformed

**"I'm Reformed."**

Clark had always enjoyed reading. There was just something peaceful about a good book. In his youth, he absorbed books like a sponge to water. Fictional stories were always his favorite. Science fiction and fantasy tales about heroes and villains, monsters and aliens, and other stories made to amaze their audience. As fiction became a reality, he strove to learn more about the world around him, even dipping his head into psychology after his meeting with Dr. Quinzel.

Sadly, today's reading was not for entertainment. Instead he was reading up on hyenas and how best to raise them. Such a topic was rather difficult to find research on, but a quick visit to the Metropolis Zoo did offer a plethora of advice and notes to consider. He finished reading the book's passage, before holding his other hand up. The bag dripped with crimson as he waved it side to side.

"Bud! Lou! Dinner time!" Despite the Apokolips bomb rendering them near deaf, they did seem to respond during the rare times they heard him. Even if they couldn't hear him, they'd catch the aroma of fresh meat.

While the idea of holding a deceased animal's flesh still left him uncomfortable, it was something he had gotten used to. The alien creatures he had welcomed into his Fortress were his responsibility now, and he'd be darned if he'd let any of them starve because he felt squeamish. He ensured that he had a way to acquire meat for the carnivores without hassle. The farmers and ranchers of Smallville were a great help, happily offering extra beef to him when he explained his plight.

Like clockwork, he heard the familiar yipping and laughter from the two hyenas. They ran over the stone and dirt terrain towards their new owner, before they began to beg for their meal, whining and bending their heads down as they looked up at their new owner.

"No need to beg, you two. Here." Clark dumped the contents of the bag onto the ground and watched the two hyenas go to work, happily munching and tearing at the meat. His face grimaced as he glanced away, trying to avoid the sight as the sound of torn flesh echoed in his ears.

He thanked his mother and father a dozen times over for helping him master self control. Just the smell of raw meat would have probably overpowered him. Instead he focused his mind on distractions, mental fantasies that worked to keep his senses off the long-dead cow.

He imagined his family's farm and the cool scent of dew in the morning, or the fresh, cool odor of rain from a storm. He could smell the electricity in the air, how it made everything stand on edge as thunder clapped. He'd always hear the crackling buildup of a charge, long, long before he saw lighting. He smelled his mother's strawberry pies, cooked to perfection. The scents and sounds of Smallville carried his mind further away from his surroundings. He smelled his father's colonge, and he smelled his mother's delicious cooking.

He smelled something else. Something sweet in the air, almost fruity. It tickled his nostrils, just acidic to tingle his senses. Her perfume, strawberries mixed with watermelon, wafting in the air...

Clark sighed, brought back to reality as he crouched down to pet the two hyenas. They were too focused on their meal to even acknowledge him now, but he still spoke to them like he did any with any pet under his care.

"No fighting you two. There's plenty for both of you, and I can get more from the freezers whenever I need to. You don't need to fight for your share anymore."

When he adopted the two creatures, he'd found several signs of abuse on them. Coarse scars soiled their soft skin, and bits of fur refused to grow back from the tender flesh. He shuddered to imagine the torture Joker put these two through. Did Harley even know? She seemed to care so much for Bud and Lou, yet she allowed them to be treated like this?

The young woman had been brought to Stryker's Island Penitentiary less than a week ago, and so far the doctors had been struggling with her. He focused his hearing, sharpening it like a knife as he pushed his senses beyond the the laughter of Bud and Lou. His ignored the mechanical whirring of the Superman Robots, past the cold, arctic winds that pounded against the Fortress, over the raging sea, until he was practically in Metropolis.

He heard zooming cars, the night life active and in its' prime, a bank heist being foiled by Steel, before finally reaching Stryker's. The island prison was home to some of his greatest enemies, but it also contained many incarcerated men and women just looking to do their time. He moved past the doctors and guards, until finally he found Dr. Quinzel's voice.

"My puddin' is gonna come and he's gonna blow all your brains out if you don't let me out! You hear me?! He's gonna kill all of yous, and then-"

 _Not much change there,_ he sighed. He pulled his senses back and laid a hand on Bud, gently petting the hyena's head as he lamented. "It's been days, and all she does is scream at the doctors and talk about Joker. I know it's foolish to expect her to recover in an instant, but... I guess I was just being hopeful." Bud raised his head to look at the Man of Steel, blood stains around his muzzle as he stared. Without a single noise he began to nuzzle against Superman's hand. The sensation of fur being dragged against his skin tickled Clark, and he smiled in gratitude. "Thanks. Maybe what Harley needs is a friend? Maybe one that used to believe in her, and still does..."

Bud licked Superman's palm, before turning and walking away with Lou following behind him. Both of them seemed to have lost interest in Superman now that the meal was finished, but he wasn't offended. In fact, he was smiling.

 _This looks like a job for Clark Kent._

* * *

Metropolis was often thought of as the City of Tomorrow, a place of progress and equality that was meant to help light up the world. The presence of Superman only furthered that belief. Stryker's Island was the blemish to that idea of perfection, and yet Clark had never hated or looked down upon the place. In a way, there was no better place to find the core of Metropolis than Styker's. Styker's was meant to punish the guilty, but also heal the broken and lost. He liked to think it wasn't because of Superman that the prison had such a success rate with rehabilitation, but rather it was the kindness and genuine compassion that all humans had.

Her face didn't have a trace of makeup, and Clark could see even more of the doctor he met in her face. Yet it still seemed impossible that the two were one and the same. His eyes glanced over her, catching and framing her bone structure within a nanosecond. He saw into the very structure of her cells, gazed into her very anatomy, and yet he still found himself staring at a puzzle. Harley Quinn honestly looked more like Harleen's younger sister, than the doctor herself.

Then he heard her heartbeat, and he knew Harleen was sitting in front of him, and whether she knew it or not, he was going to help her.

"Hello, Harley."

"Ehh... What's up, doc?" she greeted, leaning back in her chair. "Whose the stiff? My lawyer?"

"May I?" Clark whispered, motioning to the chair across from Harley. Dr. Leland nodded her head, and he sat across from the cuffed woman. "Hello, Harley. My name is Clark Kent."

"Clark Kent...? I know that name..." Harleen's finger tapped at her chin as her eyes rose up to the ceiling. "Clark Kent... Clark... Kent... Did we used to date in college?"

"You really don't remember me, do you?" He knew this was a possibility. He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face as he placed his briefcase down onto the table. Harley just seemed to roll his eyes at him, before yawning.

"Sorry, chubs, guess you just got one a' those faces. Y'know, one of those totally forgettable, blasé kinda faces." she mocked, looking down on the young man.

"Is that so? Then maybe I can help you remember. You had your hair tied up in a bun when you last saw me." Harley raised her brow, before tapping her chin again. "Glasses on." He motioned to his own as Harley made glasses out of her fingers, looking through them as she scrutinized the reporter. "And you wore a doctor's coat."

"We meet on Halloween or somethin'?"

"No, actually. It was just a few months ago?" He never lost the small smile on his face. Hopeful, though some would call it naive, that he could rekindle even a trace of her memory. "I was the reporter you spoke to, Dr. Quinzel?" The name seemed to trigger something in her. He could see her brow wrinkle as a spark burned in her cyan eyes. _Anger...? Maybe she hasn't forgotten me._

"Heh." And in an instant, her anger was washed away, replaced by a toothy, wide smile. "Nice try, four-eyes. I see what you're tryin' to do. I may look like a supermodel, but I got brains to go with my looks." Clark could see her contain and control herself. It seems he had to push harder.

"Oh, I know. It's just a shame Joker doesn't seem to."

"Excuse you?" Her grin vanished again, replaced only with fury and indignation.

"Joker. He doesn't seem to respect you, or even like you, yet you seem to-"

"Don't you dare talk like you know my Puddin'! Or me!" she growled, earning a glare from the guard behind her.

"Down, inmate!"

"But I do know you, Harleen. You were scared because your co-workers didn't believe in you. You wanted to help people, heal their minds! You believed in-" He stopped, not because of the glare Harley gave him or because of the sound of her racing heart. It was the lack of sound.

Clark had lived with his powers since he was a child, and one of the hardest things to master was sound. The hum of electricity coursing through wires had been a song he'd listened to since his powers manifested. The tiny crackle he heard when his alarm needed the tiniest boost of electricity to sound the alarm always woke him up sooner than the alarm itself. This also gave him the unique gift to hear a blackout before he could see it.

And all around him, he heard the void electricity left. His eyes widened, before darkness blanketed the room.

"What's happening?!" Dr. Leland gasped.

"C-calm down, doc! Probably just a slight malfunc-ACK!" The guard was down. A single blow to his throat knocked him down, before another blow left him unconcious.

The hum of electricity returned, and the lights flickered back on, but it was too late. The inmates had the moment they needed. It was like a rising crescendo as metal was ripped apart and doors were broken down. The whirring sound of John Corben, aka Metallo's, limbs stretching. The gluttonous groan of Rudy Jones, the Parasite. The mocking laughter of Winslow Schott, the Toyman.

Then his ears twitched, and he realized there were threats far closer to him. Like Volcana melting her inhibitor collar off, before doing the same to her cell door, or Silver Banshee incapacitating several guards with a sonic scream. His eyes turned forward as the lights illuminated the room once more, revealing Harley Quinn with her collar off and a gun aimed at the two of them. She stood on the table, one hand holding the gun, the other holding her unlocked cuffs. She smirked at the reporter and doctor, licking her ruby lips with glee as the guard lay behind her.

"Well, well, well. Looks like my Puddin's here to save me! Sorry, doc, but I'm out of here! As for you, four-eyes, see ya in the funny pages!"

Clark watched as the slide of the gun moved back. His eyes narrowed as he moved, standing up from his chair and moving towards Leland. The hard part was moving just slow enough to be seen as a human adrenaline rush, rather than the solar-powered speed his genetics gifted him with.

Clark could hear the bullet (relatively) slowly moving in the barrel of the gun. He could feel the slight heat in the air as the soundwave touched his skin. The gunpowder ignited as he moved in front of the doctor, who was just now realizing what Harley was doing. Her eyes widened in horror, before squeezing shut as she seemed to accept her fate with a racing heart. Clark could smell the gunpowder as the bullet shot out of the cartridge, moving down the barrel. By the time the spiral grooves inside the gun touched the bullet, he was already in front of the doctor, pretending to cower in front of Harley.

All of this occurred in less than a second. He only hoped there wouldn't be any questions as Clark watched the bullet cut through the air towards him and the doctor. Harley jumped off the table, already expecting them to die as she raced towards the exit. The bullet was nearing them, but Clark opened his mouth slightly and blew through the small hole between his lips. The push was just enough to move the bullet, sending it flying into the ground beside his foot. It hit the ground, ricocheting off of it and into the wall, before falling harmlessly onto the ground.

"Are you okay, doctor?"

"W-what happened?" Dr. Leland asked, shaking as Clark turned to her.

"Adrenaline rush... The bullet almost hit us, but looks like we were lucky," he replied. "Is your office close?"

"Y-yeah...?"

"Good. Stay here, and lay low. It's chaos out there. Once it's safe, go to your office and get to safety. You and the guard," he commanded, motioning to the guard behind them who was beginning to come to.

"What? What about you?"

"I'm going to... uh... get help. Just stay here, okay?" Clark mentally kicked himself for such a weak excuse, but he could already hear Harley running off, unloading her gun into several guards. _No one dead yet, but I need to move._ With a flick of his hand, the lights in the room turned off and Clark slipped out the door, leaving the guard and doctor alone in the dark. He prayed they would get out of this safely as he looked around, eyes peering through the stone and metal walls of Stryker's.

The entire prison was in chaos. Prisoners were attacking the confused guards as security measures failed to operate. Doors were unlocked and automated defenses froze as the prisoners stormed the men and women of the facility. To make matters worse, dozens of metahumans were now prowling the halls of the prison, with many now racing to the female section of the complex.

The prison was in chaos. _No place to change. I need to work fast to try and control the situation. Going to need help._ Clark's finger tapped his ear, activating the communicator hidden within. The device hummed to life, sending out a signal as Clark ran down the hall. His foot landed on a piece of debris, and he stumbled, and with a bit of superstrength, the rock shot off to knock out an inmate holding a large chunk of stone over their head.

The woman fell, dropping the stone on top of herself and saving the innocent guard in front of her.

"Cyborg."

"I'm here, Supes. What's up?"

"Prison riot at Stryker's. The guards need help."

"All League members are preoccupied right now, but I'll find who I can and race over myself if I have to. You think you can hold out till then?"

Another villainess was choking a guard to death. A blast of heat vision, weak enough to be invisible to the human eye, distracted her just enough for the man to grab his taser. The woman cried out in pain, falling on the ground and convulsing in agony. "I'll manage. Thanks, Cy." He ended the call as his eyes fell upon Harley Quinn, who had suddenly by stopped by another, taller inmate.

Whisper A'Daire, a woman that was part snake, both metaphorically and literally. She was a notable member of Intergang, ally to Ra's al Ghul himself, and known business partner with Bruno 'Ugly' Mannheim. Her genetically altered skin was tinted orange, and scaly to the touch, and her eyes matched the infamous creature, narrowing as her forked tongue slipped out from between her scowling lips. Her hand shot forward, smacking the gun out of Harley's fingers as she hissed at the girl.

"You... You're the clown's whore, ain't cha?"

"Whore?! Watch it, ya walking purse! I'm his fiancée! What's it to ya?!"

"Your 'fiancé' backstabbed my partner out a deal and got him sent to Blackgate. Intergang doesn't take kindly to that." Whisper and Harley glared at one another, challenging the other in silence, before Whisper shouted to the other villains. "Hey! I'm putting out a bounty! Anyone who gives me the head of Harley Quinn will be a million bucks richer!"

That got the other inmates' attention. They ignored the guards, letting them flee as they began to advance towards Harley, surrounding her. The blonde just blew hair from her face, pouting.

"Only a million? I'm worth at least six."

Clark watched as Volcana aimed her hand at Harley's back. The temperature in the hall rose as she aimed a ball of fire at blonde. "Behind you!" Clark warned. The fireball shot forward, only to miss as Harley flipped in the air, performing a move that befit any master acrobat. She landed on the ground, barely dodging another attack from another villain.

 _Damn it... I need to help her before they kill her!_ Harley was doing a good job playing keep away and using the other villains as shields, but it was only a matter of time before they overwhelmed her, not to mention some of the villains glared at him for warning their prey. They were running at him, but he was far faster than they were. He just needed to use his time wisely.

Clark glanced around the area, planning out his route. Silver Banshee was standing on the sidelines, glaring at her fellow inmates for failing to capture Harley. The banshee's screams were incredibly powerful, and agonizing especially to those with enhanced hearing, but there was a glaring weakness to the sonic screech. Clark did his best to seem equally terrified and brave as three meta-humans moved towards him. He picked a rock from the ground and brandished it.

"B-back off! I'm warning you!"

"Ooh. A rock. Terrifying."

"Might want to put that down, hero. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Yeah, let us take care of that."

"Please, d-don't hurt me!" Clark begged, before closing his eyes and throwing the rock. He silently prayed his aim was on point as it flew through the air, over his attackers' heads.

"Ha! Nice aim, dumbass."

The rock flew, before nailing Silver Banshee on the head. The superhuman took the blow like a mosquito bite, scowling as she turned to glare at Clark. The reporter raised up his hand as he trembled in place.

"S-sorry, sir!" _Yep. That did it._ Clark braced himself as Silver Banshee took a deep breath...

"Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!"

"What are you idiots doing?! Kill her alrea-"

The shriek of the Silver Banshee was deafening. For the meta-humans, the scream left them paralyzed in pain as they tried to cover their ears. For Clark, he could feel blood pool in his ears as made his move. The pain was like a drill in each other, burrowing through his head, cutting into his ear drums and beating into his skull like a jackhammer. But experience with Silver Banshee lessened the pain, if only slightly. It hurt, but he fought her enough times to know how to block the pain and focus. He dashed forward, running past the other inmates until he was by Harley's side. Without breaking his run, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along.

"Come on!" He doubt she could hear him over the banshee wails of Silver Banshee. The silver-haired woman scowled at the sight of them running, flying into the air to give chase. Clark pulled on Harley, silently pleading for her to run faster as the ghostly woman flew behind them. He pushed his legs a little farther, but Harley struggled to keep up.

It seemed that Silver Banshee had her prey, but a sound caught Clark's attention. It was a spark, a crackle of electricity. The air smelled hot as he breathed it in. It was nothing like the electricity coursing through the wires. It felt closer, sounded sharper, sparked almost like a heartbeat. One of the cells exploded, shattering the glass wall that held the prisoner.

The explosion knocked Clark and Harley forward, the reporter moving his body to protect the blonde from falling bits of heated glass. The two turned to see what had caused the blast and they saw a woman with light blue hair standing above them. The orange uniform burned away at her arms, revealing the blue and white body suit that clung to her cyan skin.

"Who the hell is making all that racket?!" she screamed. Sparks shot from her eyes as she glared at the surprised Silver Banshee. "Hey, scream queen! Put a sock in it!" she demanded, firing a bolt of electricity at the woman. The electricity hit the banshee, flinging her back and into the small crowd villains.

"Whoa! Who is that?" Harley asked, eyes wide.

"Leslie Willis, also known as Livewire."

"Huh. I like her style."

"Hold on, Livewire!" Whisper moved through the crowd, holding up her hand. "We don't want to fight! We're after that bitch and her little boytoy, not you," she explained, pointing at Harley and Clark behind her. "Step aside. Go be free, or hell, join in. Her head's worth a lot of money, I assure you."

Livewire paused, raising her brow at the offer. She turned her head to stare at Clark and Harley, before glancing back at Whisper. "How much we talking here?"

"A million dollars."

Livewire whistled in approval, nodding her head. "That's a lot of green."

"Indeed it is."

The blue-haired woman walked forward, nodding her head with a smirk on her face. "Put 'er there, babe. Let's shake on it." A sadistic grin formed on Whisper's face as she shook Livewire's hand.

"Excellent. Now let's- AHHHH!" The blue-haired woman let out a mocking laugh as Whisper was electrocuted. Her body fell to the ground, unconscious from the sheer pain as her attacker's eyes glowed blue.

"You idiots must not have heard. I'm reformed." Her prisoner garb burned away, reduced to ash as the lights around her intensified, giving her more energy. "So this whole jailbreak thing? Gotta tell ya. I ain't a fan." The last of the costume burned away, revealing the white and blue bodysuit under her skin. A familiar S was on her chest, shining brightly as her powers lit up the long hallway.

Clark beamed with pride at the sight of Livewire. "Her powers made her unstable, but Superman gave her a containment suit that helped regulate them. With her powers in check, she willingly gave herself up. The Man of Steel visits her every other week to see how she's doing," he explained, smiling at Harley's 'shocked' face.

"Alright, ladies. Whose first?"

* * *

Johnny Cooper, since birth, was told he'd amount to nothing. His ma would down a bottle of whiskey, before she'd wipe her lips and tell him about Johnny's deadbeat father. She'd tell him that he was just like his old man. 'A good-for-nothing loser!' she'd say. He wasn't really sure how to respond to that, and he'd just watch quietly as she took out a cigar and blew smoke into the air.

He was told the same by his teachers, by his mates, and even by Bruno Mannheim after joining Intergang. A college drop-out without family and friends in the middle of one of America's biggest cities, what was a loser like him to do except join up with a gang?

Extortion, bribery, armed theft, Johnny did whatever the hell Bruno told him to do. He even got to play around with some high-tech laser pistol. It would have been pretty sweet, if Bruno wasn't telling him to shoot some poor bitch and her kid.

It felt like he was there for hours, just being yelled at and insulted. He kept looking at the gun, then at the kid and his mom. One pull of the trigger and they'd be ashes, right? Maybe he was doing them a favor? Maybe if he made it quick and painless, it'd be than whatever Bruno was planning for them.

Didn't make it any easier.

Then the roof came crashing down and someone landed behind them. The other guys fired away, but all Johnny could do was watch as the man took the lasers like puffs of air. He moved like a blur, tearing their guns apart and knocking each man out, even Bruno 'Ugly' Mannheim. Then he was standing in front of Johnny like an obelisk, the light outlining his muscular, looming figure.

"I... I..."

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

"J-Johnny. Johnny Cooper."

"Johnny... You didn't fire your weapon. Can I ask why?"

"I mean... W-what would be the point, right?" he stuttered. He tried looking up to meet the man's eyes, but he just couldn't. If this was the same guy the Daily Planet wrote about, he could shoot fire from his eyes! Johnny kept his head down, staring at the man's bright red boots instead.

"I didn't mean at me. I meant at them." He motioned to the woman and child behind him.

Johnny didn't say anything for a moment, before he finally muttered a question. "A-are you going to beat me up?"

"No." The man gently reached for the gun, but he didn't take it. Johnny gave the weapon to him as the man placed a hand on his shoulder. "Johnny, you're better than this. You're going to have to do some time in jail, but I can see that you're too good for this life. I hope that you can see that too." He lifted up his hand, holding it out to him. "Metropolis has a popular reform program, and if you have a hard time, find me when you're released. I know some places that are always looking for new blood."

"I... Y-yeah. Okay."

Superman's words stayed with Johnny for hours, and now, they were coming back like the waves of the ocean. They slammed into his head as he watched the inmates swarm over the cops. The guards were doing their best, but there were just too damn many of them. One of them, a guard named Robert was trying to restore order, only to be attacked by two inmates. The smaller one held him down as the other, much larger thug, kicked and stomped on the old guard, laughing and mocking him as Robert bled on the ground.

"Not so tough now, are ya Kane?" he laughed. "Come on, tell me who the boss is. Say it!" Another kick. The old man cried out in pain, struggling to break free.

Robert Kane was always good to Johnny. Sympathetic. Respectful. Didn't treat him like an animal. He gave a shit about Johnny. Just like Superman did.

 _"Johnny, you're better than this."_

"Hey!" He pushed open his cell door. The electric locks holding him in had long shut down, just like everyone else's. He marched towards the Robert and his two assailants, yelling at them. "I want a piece of him! You hear me?! I want his head!"

The two inmates seemed only too happy to give Johnny that. "Hear that, Kane? We ain't the only one looking for blood." He gently slapped the old man's face as his partner hoisted Robert up to his feet. "Go ahead, Johnny. Let's see what you got."

Johnny nodded his head, before balling his hands into fists. He took a deep breath as he stood in front of the two. Robert's forehead was bleeding. Nose looked broken. Eyebrow was cut. The wrinkled coot looked ready to fall into his grave. Robert looked at Johnny with broken eyes, before closing them. He looked ready to accept his fate.

 _Well, he ain't the first old bastard I've left disappointed._ Johnny threw a punch, a strong, hard jab that slammed into the inmate's face. The guy holding Robert hadn't seen it coming, and there was a vicious crack at the sound of knuckles meeting face. The surprised bastard fell back, holding his nose as Robert fell into Johnny's arms. "I got you, old-timer."

"Motherfucker!" Johnny looked up at the fuming, monster-of-a-man. The guy looked ready to strangle the both of them, only to be tackled down. Another inmate, a man even bigger than he was, was beating the shit out of him.

"Run, dumbass!" He offered only a moment to glare at Johnny and Robert, before he resumed beating the man's head into the ground.

Johnny didn't need to be told twice. He threw Robert's arm over his shoulder and ran, pushing past the growing riot. It was hard to tell if the place was getting worse or better, because now other inmates were running out of their cells to fight other inmates. If he took a moment to look a little closer, he might have even seen some of the inmates protecting the guards.

 _This kind of shit only happens in Metropolis,_ he thought, carrying the guard to safety.

 **END**

I won't lie. This chapter was a problem and a half to write. I'm not sure how okay I am with it honestly. It was even getting too long so I had to cut in half. Maybe you'll find it good. Maybe you'll find it was mostly filler (a complaint I have with it).

Would you guys prefer longer chapters, or chapters that are this length, I wonder. Anyways, yes. There's a jailbreak on the same day Clark goes to visit Harley. Hopefully that's not too bad a coincidence. More like superhero luck. But I wanted to do something very special with this jailbreak. In most, the guards and prisoners are clearly divided in sides, like Arkham Asylum, with some guards even in on it with the bad guys.

Here? I wanted to show that Metropolis isn't Gotham. That Stryker's, unlike Arkham, works. Livewire is a criminal that has changed her ways. She's one of at least four supervillains in Metropolis that are going to help the guards in this chapter, and the next. Johnny was just a regular guy I created that Superman inspired to be better. He, and other normal inmates, try to help the guards.

You can say it is unrealistic... But I wanted to show the goodness in people. Superman was sent to this planet to inspire humanity, not just punch monsters. He's inspiring all of these bad guys to try to be heroes. I like to think that helps give hope and foreshadows Harley's own growth.

Anyways, I've taken enough of your time. Have a good day, folks. Hope you liked this chapter, and if not, tell me how I can improve! I love reading all of the wonderful reviews you all leave me. Till next month!


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